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CHAPTER   VI
CHIEF   C4RRT-?HE-I(,ETTLE

nnms was the last blizzard of early spring.
JL When we journeyed on and reached the
upper Missouri River—Montana—the ice was
breaking, and we decided to wait until the floes
had passed before risking our horses and our lives
in the swift-flowing, ice-jammed torrent. White
Dog and Going Soul decided that we should go
down the river a little way to look for a good
camping-place. To do this we had to 'travel
high3 to keep out of the slush; so we went back up
the south butte again and made our way slowly
eastward.

It was mid-afternoon when White Dog stopped
his horse and signed back to us to halt. He and
Thunder Face, the scout, came back and said that
there was a big camp of Indians on the river-bank
ahead of us; and they called a council of the chiefs
and councilmen to decide what to do. From the
paintings on the teepees they could not make out
what tribe they were} but the council decided that